Shadows of the Past
by Fictions of Legends
Summary: This takes place sometime after the first episode of the third series.  Everyone is getting settled with the new house in Wales.  Things seem peaceful.  But we all know that when one evil dies, a stronger one takes its place.  More inside!
1. Chapter 1

Summary: This takes place sometime after the first episode of the third series. This is, of course, with the BBC series and not the SyFy remake. Everyone is getting settled with the new house in Wales. Things seem peaceful. But we all know that when one evil dies, a stronger one takes its place. And this new evil is powerful in more ways than one. Spoilers, of course.

Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human or any of the characters in this story. All those rights go to the amazing Toby Whitehouse. Even the made-up last name "Dolonov" is not mine and was suggested to me by a friend. So now that that's out of the way…

Shadows of the Past: Chapter 1

_I still can't sleep. Even in the new house. Mitchell's been more persistent than ever in trying to make me, but…_

_It isn't as if I don't want to. Part of me does. But another part of me is still afraid. Now it's no longer being afraid of what I'll dream of, but being afraid of what could happen while I'm unconscious. It's always something that prevents me._

_First I was afraid of what I would dream of. Then I was afraid that I'd sleep in and be late for work. Now I'm afraid that I'll lose everything just as I've gained it all back._

Annie, sitting with her legs scrunched up to her chest in her chair, turned to look at her friend. He was sleeping in his bed; his brown curls tussled from his restless slumber. His face looked troubled and he groaned in his sleep.

The ghost frowned from her chair. And then she was gone.

Now she was on the stairs, staring at the landing at the foot of the steps. The floor morphed and distorted – turned to argyle tiles. Little patterns of black and white diamonds. A spider was born on one, and it grew from barely a speck to something large, its legs reaching the ends of the tile it formed on. And it stayed, staring back at Annie, challengingly.

She looked shocked at first, her eyes widening, but then the expression disappeared, replaced itself with one that was unfazed – unconcerned. As if becoming aware that this was not enough, crimson liquid rose from the spider on the tile, flooded it, surrounded it. Annie merely closed her eyes in exasperation and let out a breath.

_Even in the new house. It's like they follow me – the memories. The mind is a powerful thing, and mine just happens to be powerful enough to bring my memories to life. In a sense. It's almost as if my own death is haunting me. God, you'd think I'd be over that by now. I've got a great life, so to speak. Great friends, great house. Everything should be peachy._

There was an opening and closing of a door as Mitchell left his room. Annie didn't stir. She just kept on staring at the floor, accepting its challenge and facing it down. The tan vampire huffed as he saw the sight. The blood did not tempt him. It wasn't real. But even if it had been, he would not have been drawn to it. His friend was what mattered to him right now. He sat down on the steps next to her, throwing his arm around her. Looking from the floor to her face, he frowned rubbing her arm reassuringly.

_Some things just stay with you, I guess._

"Annie, you're bigger than this," he said. His brown hair shook as he waggled his head. "It doesn't control you."

"Hmm?" she said, snapping away from her thoughts. Annie looked at Mitchell, her face slightly smiling. "I know." The scene lay neglected on the ground. "I'm just thinking about it, that's all," she said, laughing in spite of herself.

His frown lessened faintly, a sad smile taking its place. Rubbing at her arm again, he pulled her closer, and Annie rested her head on his shoulder.

Rustling came from the downstairs hall to the left of the stairs. "Oh, there's _blood_ on the-!" called a distressed voice before breaking off in confusion. "…floor from the old house." George – a tall, pale, shorthaired man with glasses entered the area of congregation with a cup of tea in hand. "What's that doing here?" he asked the pair on the stairs.

"Annie was thinking about her death," Mitchell answered. His voice shook as if the subject were a touchy one as he gestured to the changed floor.

"It's an illusion," the ghost added with a nod.

"Oh." After a moment of staring at the floor and hesitating, George brought his sock-covered toe to the blood and nudged it. He shrieked and jumped back as the fabric was stained red. "It's wet!" he yelled. "That is _wet_!"

"It's just an _illusion_!" shouted Annie jumping up from her spot. Mitchell cautiously watched between the two and stood slowly. "Your brain's playing tricks on you, that's all!"

George quickly shut his eyes and began fervently chanting to himself, "Brain, your toe's not wet, _brain, your toe's not wet_!" His eyes flashed open. "It is still _wet_, Annie, it's still wet!"

"All right, all right, you're _such_ a baby!" she called, closing her eyes. Her body went tense, fists clenched at her sides. And then with one heavy exhale of breath, the scene was gone.

The tall man swallowed the lump that had formed in his throat and, with shallow breaths said, "Thank you."

"Baby," was all she replied, her mouth set in a hard line of annoyance and disappointment.

"I am _not_ a baby," George said, waving his teacup at her menacingly. Mitchell rolled his eyes from behind Annie as George took a sip of his tea. "How did you do that, anyway?" he asked. "Did you…steal the floor from the new tenants?"

The vampire and the ghost both wore incredulous looks on their faces. "For Christ's sakes, it's just an _illusion_, George," answered Mitchell.

"Yeah, _George_," said Annie as she stepped down the stairs. She emphasized his name and spoke in a mocking lilt. "Do you even know what an illusion is?"

George shot a glare at the woman, obviously insulted. "'Course I know what an illusion is!" he said sharply. Annie made it past him and the two men both turned to look at her. "It was just…a very good one, that's all," he murmured sheepishly.

"Well, thank you kindly," she teased, smiling. "Now if you'll both excuse me, I'm off to the kitchen to make some tea." Then she turned to look solely at George. "Just yell if you see a mouse and I'll come chase it away for you. Baby."

"I'm not a baby!" George called again after her retreating form.

"Whatever!" she said, throwing a hand uncaringly into the air.

Scowling, George turned his head to Mitchell. He shook it from side to side. "Unreasonable."

"I heard that!" came Annie's voice from the kitchen.

The vampire chuckled as he walked down the stairs, his hands in his pockets. "So where's Nina?" he asked.

"Work."

"Work?" Mitchell asked, furrowing his brows. He looked out one of the windows. The light shining through was dismal as usual and George nodded to his question as his head was turned. "What time is it?"

"Uhhh." The tall man lifted his wrist to his face and squinted his eyes. "About 5:30."

Mitchell paled. "About 5:30?" he repeated in shock.

"Yeah," said George, a grin playing at his lips. "Slept in quite late, didn't you?" he asked, making his way to the living room where he sat down at one of the couches, Mitchell followed in toe and leaned on the wall. "Practicing to be a creature of the late afternoon?"

Mitchell groaned, rubbing at his eyes and forehead. "I've just been so tired lately."

"I can't imagine why," said George with a straight face, though his tone was laced with sarcasm. "You've just recently brought our friend back from the reaches of purgatory. I can't see why that would be tiring."

Releasing his forehead, the vampire's lips quirked up at one corner, his countenance suddenly glowing with pride and happiness. George shared his look, a full smile on his face. Mitchell took a seat next to the werewolf on the couch.

"You did good, Mitchell. You brought her back." Silence lingered as they took in this truth. Then finally, George spoke again. "So, what was it like?"

"What was what like?" he asked, fingering one of the cold mugs of tea that rested on the table. After contemplating for a second, he gripped it in both hands and held it idly to his chest.

"Purgatory," answered George, watching Mitchell hold and eventually sip the cold tea. He cringed slightly, but his curiosity far outweighed his disgust. "What was it like?"

Mitchell's attention switched from looking down at the mug to glancing at a spot in the corner of the room. His eyes were distant. "Enlightening," he muttered.

Silence drifted over the room again until, sighing, George said, "That's the best answer I'm going to get, isn't it?"

Mitchell turned back to him, smiling and chuckling. He shook his head. "It isn't your time to know anything more than that." After beaming and "Heh"-ing at the statement, a full cringe hit George's face as Mitchell took another long sip of the tea.

"_Don't_ drink that!" scolded Annie as she entered the room, a new steaming mug in her hands. Mitchell immediately lowered the cup from his mouth as if he were a child that had just been caught with his finger in his nose. "It's _old_! _And_ cold. I have a fresh one right here for you."

"Well, it's your fault," said George. "You keep leaving these bleeding mugs of tea everywhere, no one can tell _what_ they're supposed to drink anymore."

"And who are you?" Annie questioned rhetorically. "His lawyer?" She set the new cup onto the table.

Displeased, George puffed out his lips. But instead of replying, he lifted the mug quickly and tossed a coaster underneath it.

"I'm sorry, Annie," Mitchell answered solemnly. "It's my fault. I just wasn't paying attention."

"Well you _should_," she chided. "You could be drinking-" She looked around as if searching the room for possibilities. "Poison, for all you know!"

He laughed. "It's not as if I could _die_, Annie."

The ghost rolled her eyes. "Still, I was making that cup of tea for _you_. Why did you think I was off to the kitchen?"

"I thought you were getting tea for yourself," he admitted, shaking his head. But she raised an eyebrow at the excuse and scoffed. "You _can_ taste," he added on as if to back up his train of thought.

"But I can't very well _drink_ by myself, now can I?" Mitchell pursed his lips, accepting the response. Annie nodded to him. "Go on, while it's still hot, Mitchell."

He lifted his mug to his lips, blowing on the liquid gently. She didn't need the physical contact anymore to feel the experiences of another. All Annie need do was close her eyes and imagine. His gaze on her, Mitchell drank some of the tea. And a smile flitted to her lips as she tasted the drink cleanse her pallet and wash over her tongue, course down her throat and warm her being.

"So why were you thinking about your death?" The question nearly caused Mitchell to choke on his tea and all at once, Annie's eyes flew open. All gazes rested on George, mouths open in disbelief and bafflement. George's face scrunched up and he raised his hands as if to tell the others to back off. "It's a legitimate question!" he shrieked in defense.

Relaxing her stance, Annie shrugged and took a seat. "It's just something you think about."

"Oh yeah," said George, a bite to his tone as he put his tea cup onto the table, of course making sure to put a coaster down first. "Because death is always the first thing on _my_ mind."

"Well you're not exactly _dead_, are you, George?" snapped Annie.

George quieted up, looking embarrassedly down at his tea and away from the ghost who was now scrutinizing his face. Mitchell turned to him, coughing slightly to clear his throat, and nodded. "She has a point, you know."

Pursing his lips, George merely gave a curt nod, keeping his eyes down.

Again Annie relaxed and sat back in her chair. "Everyone has that thing they think about when there's nothing else on their mind." The grey fabric on her shoulders rose and fell as she shrugged. "An object, a person, a phrase… Mine just happens to be, 'I'm dead.' Which leads me to thinking about how I came to _be_ dead and there we go."

"That's morbid," replied George after a moment of quiet.

Annie scowled. "I'm sorry my thoughts aren't all about puppies and rainbows."

"Bunnies," said Mitchell.

"What?"

"It's bunnies and rainbows. Hugs and puppies, bunnies and rainbows."

"Don't _help_ him!" shouted Annie.

"I'm just saying!" Mitchell said, throwing his hands up in a gesture of peace. "Bunnies are happier than puppies."

Annie rolled her eyes in exasperation. "That isn't the point."

Mitchell sighed and turned his body towards Annie, leaning half off the couch to her. "What I think the point is – _George's_ point – is that none of that matters anymore. You're free of that, Annie. There isn't any reason to worry about that anymore."

She offered nothing in response but a polite and reassured smile that didn't quite reach her eyes and a nod.

* * *

The plan was clear in Daisy's head. The only ones with brains at the institution were the mysterious Reverend Kemp and Lucy Jaggat anyway, and they were now dead. As she thought of this, a sickening grin rose to her face. As soon as she'd heard news of their disappearances, she'd known they were dead. And she didn't know how, but she knew John Mitchell had to have been involved in those deaths in some way, shape, or form.

He wouldn't have been the one to kill them. She knew that. He wasn't the same Mitchell that he was with her. She leaned, limply, against one of the hallway walls, eyes drifting to the ceiling as she daydreamed. She thought about the train car massacre, and a giggle fled her lips. The screams. The fear. The pleas for mercy. The blood. She licked her lips, her stomach gurgling at the thought.

Blood everywhere, free flowing and plentiful and in parts of the train car one would never imagine, or dare to. It was soaked into the cushions; it was on the walls, on the ceilings, the food trays… She'd finger-painted with some of it a bit before lapping it up, wrote little messages to Mitchell.

The best part was that some people struggled. Some of them actually put up a fight, and it filled their blood with life. It was so-

No. She couldn't think about that now. She couldn't allow herself to get hungry. After all, there were matters that needed to be attended to first, and she was in a nice shiny white lab coat. For the sake of her disguise, she couldn't dirty that.

Straightening the coat on her shoulders, she chuckled at how stupid the staff had been. Practically anyone could get in as long as they had a lab coat and could act the part. Daisy had been an actress for seventy years. Besides, she thought, smiling to herself. She'd be able to eat later.

Clearing her throat and messing with her coat again, she plastered a gentle smile on her lips and entered the room.

The man on the white bed had been staring at the floor, his eyes wide and fearful. His black hair was untidy. His face was shaven, but judging by his state, that was only because he had been forced to shave. "Mr. Dolonov?" Daisy asked in a sweet voice. One that would make anyone who knew her true intentions sick to his or her stomach.

He looked up at her, his eyes unblinking. His breathing elevated – he was panicked. A vein in his neck throbbed with nerves. Daisy eyed it concernedly, masking the fact that she enjoyed the fear he displayed.

"Are you alright?" she asked, moving closer to the bed to get a better look at him. His pulse sounded in her ears like a drumbeat and she could picture his blood sloshing inside his veins, his arteries, his heart…

He turned his body in her direction, subtly moving away from her. He had probably assumed that his 'physician' had not noticed this, but of course she had. The gentle smile returned. "Who are you?" he asked. His voice shook with an uneasy timbre.

"I'm Doctor Lucy Jaggat," she replied. "I'm here to see you about the progress you're making." A lie on many levels. Obviously she was not Lucy Jaggat, for Lucy Jaggat was missing and decidedly dead. And clearly the man had made no progress at all, looking almost savage and as if he'd been caught out in a cold rain.

He paused, looking her over for a minute. "Your badge says Doctor Cooper."

Daisy waved a hand. "I forgot my lab coat at my flat this morning, you see." She bit her lip in faux embarrassment. "Doctor Cooper was nice enough to lend me hers since she's off for the day." He – yes "he"- was off for a lot longer than that. And it wasn't so much that he lent Daisy his lab coat as it was that she stripped it off of his corpse once she was done feeding from him. Her stomach gurgled again. She laughed, her hand gripping at it. "Pardon me!" she said. "I've missed my lunch."

Finally, he gulped. "Oh," he said with a hesitant nod. For the first time, his eyes left her. The man visibly relaxed. He turned away, his shoulders slouched and he breathed an audible sigh as if he'd been holding his breath. Though she had enjoyed his fear, Daisy was pleased by this response. It would make her plan much easier if he trusted her. If she had her way, she'd make it so that she was the only one he'd trust. "I thought you might be-" He appeared to be stuck on his words. "-One of them."

"Ah, yes," Daisy said, sagely wagging her finger in the air as she walked the rest of the way next to him. Obediently, he shuffled over on the bed to allow her room to sit next to him. And so she did. "I've heard about your fears of 'them.'" She laughed lightly. "I can assure you, you have nothing to worry about, Mr. Dolonov."

He turned his face to her, and she searched his eyes. In them, she saw sadness and fear. But she knew all of those emotions could be channeled back as stronger elements, if given the opportunity; if he were set free.

"It's all right, you're okay," she ensured, lightly placing her hand on his and wrapping her fingers around it. He sucked in a sharp breath, his eyes welling with tears that he would not let fall. It was obvious that the man had not been comforted after the incident he'd went through. Not properly, at least. And this made Daisy's sweet smile broaden. "You're safe here, Owen."

* * *

**AN: Holy crap, that was fun. Hopefully, I'll be able to continue this because I have big plans for it. If I can work them onto the page, that is. So this story maaaaay continue, but there's a slight chance it may not if writer's block sets in. Know that it **_**is supposed to**_** continue, though. Hope you all enjoyed that! Rating this story "T" mainly for the gore. Thanks for reading!**

**-Fictions**


	2. Chapter 2

Summary: This takes place sometime after the first episode of the third series. This is, of course, with the BBC series and not the SyFy remake. Everyone is getting settled with the new house in Wales. Things seem peaceful. But we all know that when one evil dies, a stronger one takes its place. And this new evil is powerful in more ways than one. Spoilers, of course.

Disclaimer: I don't own Being Human or any of the characters in this story. All those rights go to the amazing Toby Whitehouse.

Shadows of the Past: Chapter 2

Fog billowed over the atmosphere as if it were smoke from some great forest fire. That same fog seemed to have traveled into the living room of the grand house in the form of silence. Annie and Mitchell sat wordlessly on the three-cushioned couch, staring at the television, listening to the buzz of the evening news. The ghost reclined with her knees clutched to her chest and the vampire relaxed with his legs comfortably splayed, one arm resting almost limply on the left armrest of the sofa. A lone cushion lay between the two. Perhaps that was where the silence sat.

In fact, that was quite possible. Because as Annie turned to face her curly-haired flat-mate, she inched over onto the middle cushion. And suddenly, she spoke. "You know what I'd like to do?" she asked. Her tone was energetic and excited. The silence had obviously been kicked out of the house.

After jumping slightly at her abruptness, Mitchell turned away from the television and faced Annie, shooting her a quizzical expression.

She seemed to grow more excited, beaming toothily at the vampire. She danced ever so faintly in her spot. Annie's next words came so quickly that they were almost impossible to hear. "I'mgoingtogetajob!"

Mitchell eyed her in confusion. Squinting slightly, he asked, "You're going to…?"

"A job," she said. "I'm going to get a job." She said it much slower this time, but her voice was still filled with that musical excitement and she still tilted her head back and forth as she said and annunciated each word cheerily. However, Mitchell just stared at her with a look that resembled…disgust? No. Horror? No. Disappointment? Whatever. The point was that it was _negative_ and his mouth was left hanging open but no words were coming out. "Say something," Annie commanded musically, her cheer rapidly fading.

"Again?" he asked, the same expression still etched in his features. This was not the answer she'd hoped for.

All at once, Annie's good mood vanished, her smile replaced with a serious and confrontational hard line. "Uh, yeah, again," she snapped.

"But what about what happened last time?" Mitchell questioned, his tone full of concern.

The ghost's glare grew more pronounced. "What _about_ what happened last time?" she said sharply. "Are you implying that I can't try to live as a normal person without almost getting raped?"

His face was suddenly serious, eyebrows lowered, a hint of offense spreading across his complexion. "You _know _that isn't it."

"Oh do I?"

"Yes," he said. His tone was adamant. Then the vampire's serious look dropped into a more embarrassed gaze. "And technically you can't 'try to live as a normal person' because-"

"Oh hah-hah!" she said angrily, cutting him off. "Yeah, go on. Have that laugh. Think you're funny, do you?"

Mitchell huffed in frustration, closing his eyes. He waved his hand back and forth as if to retrace his thoughts. "Annie, I'm sorry. That isn't what I meant."

"Well, what _did_ you mean?" she asked. A pout that screamed annoyance weighed on her lips. It was so distinct that it was almost as if it, too, had joined the argument – like it was backing Annie up and questioning, 'Yeah, what _did_ you mean, Mitchell?'

His eyes were stuck on the pout, and for a few seconds, he looked like a drowning fish as he searched for the right words to say. It was only when his eyes glanced back to Annie's, and she shook her head expectedly, that he was able to form something remotely coherent. "I only meant that-" But he stammered again. Letting out a rough breath, his gaze darting to the distance, he tried again. "What about the doors?" he asked desperately.

Again she shook her head, but now in refusal. "There aren't going to _be_ anymore doors," she said. "At least not for a while."

"Annie, please," Mitchell begged. He brought his hands together, intertwining his fingers to show how urgent his words were. "Please, just…wait a little while longer? I only want to make sure things are safe for you." His tone was absolutely genuine.

Still, the ghost stared at him defiantly. But this only lasted for a few seconds. Finally, her shoulders dropped, and she turned back to the television in retreat. "Oh, alright."

"Thank you." He spoke the words through a sigh. And then he, too, turned back to the television. Now that they had both turned away, the middle cushion was, again, unoccupied. Silence, seeing its opportunity, snuck back in through the letter slot in the door and plopped onto the sofa, reclaiming its spot.

It was once again shoved out of its place, though, when Annie faced Mitchell once more. "Where are George and Nina?" she asked, her eyebrows furrowed. Her head tilted slightly to the left.

The vampire's eyes lowered and he gave the ghost a dull stare. After a moment's pause, he repeated, "Where are George and Nina," the hand that lie on the armrest turning upward to expose its palm. His pose conveyed that the answer should have been obvious. But, for good measure, raising an eyebrow in disbelief, Mitchell gave two exaggerated points of his index finger downwards.

Annie's face scrunched up. "They're in your trousers?"

Mitchell's dull look grew more noticeable and he tilted his head for added emphasis, a breath of exasperation escaping his lips.

It took a second for things to click. "Oh!" she exclaimed. "Really? Already?"

"Apparently," said the vampire.

"What I don't get is why they're both doing it here," said Annie.

"Oh, George said that after what happened last time, he felt it was safer to change in the house." Mitchell nodded, again gesturing to the basement. "He said the basement door was sturdy enough, so one of them could change in the exercise room and the other could change in the _rest_ of the basement."

Annie looked like she understood well enough. She bobbed her head slowly in comprehension. Then, a pause. "They're not doing that once we've decorated down there."

"Annie…" he trailed off, chidingly.

"_What_?"

"You care more about your decoration than your friend?"

She fixed him with a cold stare. "Well, let's put it this way," she said. "How many trips do you want to have to make to Ikea?"

He was facing the TV again. "Point taken."

Silence thought about resettling. It tiptoed its way back to the couch, ready to reclaim its spot. But then… "We should switch to the camera network then."

"Camera network?" Mitchell asked, voice rising with confusion.

"Oh, George didn't tell you?" she asked. "He installed cameras round the basement, so this way we could watch whoever was transforming down there and make sure things went safely. You know, make sure nothing gets broken."

"Oh!" It was a shocked but happy exclamation.

"I know, it's a great idea, isn't it?" asked Annie with a stunned look.

"Well, occasionally George has those." He gripped the remote and stared back at the television. "What channel?"

She moved to the middle cushion, holding onto Mitchell's shoulder as she looked over it. Pointing at the remote control, she said, "All you've got to do is press the 'source' button on the clicker."

The vampire pressed it with his thumb and turned back to Annie. "Got it." It was apparent from his sudden vacant expression that he'd had no idea how close they truly were.

Annie's look mirrored his, her mouth hanging open slightly. And they stayed that way until a scream of pain shook them from their trance.

Their eyes instantly went to the television. That had been George. He'd taken up the rest of the basement, from the looks of it, while Nina had the exercise room. Sitting on the floor, huddled up against the wall, Nina faced heavenward, an agonized groan turned screech breaking free from her. Meanwhile, George was on all fours, his head constantly rising and falling as he screamed from the searing torment he was experiencing.

The ghost cringed, her eyes glued to the screen. "It's really weird, seeing them all-" Her hand flew about rapidly as she searched for the correct word. "-naked."

"You don't have to watch if you don't want to. I'll tell you when they've transformed."

"No," she said, shaking her head. "It's okay." A pause. All of a sudden, she turned to Mitchell, her expression not really wavering. "Hold on, does that mean you _want_ to watch?"

Mitchell turned to her much more calmly than she had to him and shrugged. "I find it fascinating." And his eyes were back on the television.

After a moment of studying him and staring at him in bafflement, Annie's expression became suspicious and her tone accusatory. "You're just looking at Nina's tits, aren't you?"

"What?" he asked, turning to her, his expression aghast. "No!" The vampire looked almost nauseated. "Why would you even ask that?"

"Well, apparently it's something you think about," she said with a roll of her eyes. "You mentioned thinking about _my_ skin. Whatever _that_ was supposed to imply."

A slow frown formed on Mitchell's face. "I wasn't myself when I said those things, Annie." But if he could blush, he would've been at that moment. Her gaze had already returned back to the screen, and she shrugged. Mitchell allowed his eyes to join hers on the TV.

The silence awkwardly shuffled back in, once again taking its spot between the two supernatural beings. This lasted for quite a while, too, for the next time Annie turned to Mitchell, the sounds emanating from the television were only barely human. "You should get a job," the ghost said. She smiled widely and nodded quickly.

He smiled at her and chuckled. "Are you trying to say that you don't want me around the house, Miss Sawyer?" he teased. "That I'm in your space? Polluting your air?"

"No." Annie paused, opting to look straight ahead of her instead of at his face. Her eyes settled on a ring that was dried into the table. George would have a fit about that later, she noted. "I like having you around," she admitted sheepishly. She turned back to Mitchell. "But it would really help with our financial situation. I could help you get one even!"

The vampire laughed. "Why do I have a feeling that that's not a good idea?"

Her excited face fell. She looked hurt. "What?"

He kept his smile about him. "I'm only joking, Annie," said Mitchell. "I'll think about it. Thank you for the offer."

"Oh." She beamed. Her cheeks somehow flushed slightly. "You're we-"

Her statement was interrupted by a loud crash that sounded both from the television and from the house itself. Annie and Mitchell's attentions flew to the screen. The tan male's eyes widened.

Annie gasped and pointed. "Nina's broken through the door of the exercise room!" She jumped to her feet. "They're going to hurt each other!"

But before the ghost could run or disappear to the basement, Mitchell grabbed her forearm and redirected her attention to the screen. What was going on between the two werewolves looked far from painful.

The woman paled. "I didn't think they would-" She broke off, not really knowing what to say. Annie turned to Mitchell. "Are they really-…? Why are they-…? Instead of killing each other?" Though she spoke in broken and disjointed sentences, Mitchell seemed to understand what she meant as he just shook his head in response, his eyes stuck, in bemusement, on the TV screen. The silence grew more awkward, and after feeling it was intruding, exited the room to hide in discomfiture. "That's different."

"It _certainly_ is," murmured the vampire.

* * *

They had had a few meetings by now, he and 'Lucy Jaggat.' They had gone surprisingly well. Instead of speaking down to him as if he were a child or an invalid, she actually spoke to him as if he were a person of equal stature – a friend rather than a patient. She made him feel sane, something everyone else at the institution had convinced him he clearly was not.

And so, he was grateful for her. To Owen, she was an angel who masqueraded by day as a doctor. Daisy could see that he thought of her in this way, and she laughed cruelly at this thought for a good five minutes the first time she'd discovered it.

But still, Owen sat in his chair, nervously facing the door to his room, awaiting the appearance of his angel and savior. He didn't look happy, though. His expression seemed ridden with tension, and his breaths were heavy. He licked his lips to keep them moist as he stared, nearly unblinkingly at the door, his back hunched.

Daisy opened the door. "Owen!" Obviously his condition shocked her. "What's happened to you?" she asked.

"I killed my fiancé," he blurted.

Daisy froze at the door. She blinked and cocked her head to the side, unsure what all the apprehension was about. "Yes, I know," she said.

As if feeling that his message hadn't reached her, he repeated himself. "I _killed_ my fiancé."

But the vampire looked as unaffected as the last time he'd said it. "So?"

He tried again. "I _killed_ my _fiancé_."

This time Daisy laughed. "So you've said several times!" She dropped his folder nonchalantly on the table at the middle of the room. Stepping over casually, she took the unoccupied chair that rested in front of the man. She stretched her legs on the floor, crossing them at the ankles. Her hands in her pockets, she shrugged. "I don't see what the big deal is. She must've done something to deserve it."

Owen's eyes widened. "She-" He broke off, his expression turning perplexed. His eyes narrowed. "What?"

"She must've done something to _deserve it_," repeated the vampire. Her lips pouted innocently and her eyes drifted to the ceiling in wonderment. "You wouldn't have killed her for no reason."

His gaze drifted away from the 'doctor.' "I thought she'd been cheating on me," he murmured.

"She probably was," said Daisy with an apathetic shrug.

Owen's eyes flashed back to hers. Pained filled his brown irises. His jaw stayed slightly slack as silence overtook the room. Daisy was staring at him blankly, waiting for him to make the next move. "I was cheating on her, too," he said. "The whole time…"

"Rightly so," the vampire said. She closed her eyes, tilting her neck to the side as she cracked it. "The way you speak about her, it didn't sound like she was such a good person anyway. Always thought so much of herself, never wanted to mess around when you did. Don't you understand, Owen?" Daisy asked, shaking her head. "You're the victim here. You've got no reason to feel guilty."

"That _is_ true," Owen admitted, his gaze going to the floor. "She always thought she was so…clever. So much better than everyone else." His upper lip curled over his top teeth at a corner in a disgusted sneer. "Better than me," he grumbled.

"Owen," Daisy said, attempting to regain his attention. But he didn't look up. She leaned over and placed her hand comfortingly on his leg. His face lifted, eyes meeting hers. "She wasn't. She wasn't anywhere near as good as you."

A slow smile lit his face. "You're always so kind to me," he said thoughtfully. Sheepishly, he brought his hand up and rested it on hers. "Thank you."

The façade of a gentle smile spread across Daisy's lips again. "Let's be honest with ourselves, Owen," she said. The vampire had to struggle to keep her breath under control as it picked up in her glee that her plan had been moving along so smoothly. "You were glad she cheated on you. Because it finally gave you the excuse you needed to act out so violently." Her grin threatened to turn wicked, twitching a bit, and she shook her head. "You were glad to have her dead."

Owen relaxed his shoulders and leaned back in his chair. His head rose up to the ceiling as he braced his hands, almost haughtily, on the back of his folding chair. "She _was_ incredibly annoying," he said. Then he paused and said, musingly, "Good for a shag, though."

Daisy laughed, retracting her hand and covering her mouth with it to quell her giggles.

When he looked back at her, he was grinning. But after a moment, he looked slightly embarrassed. "I shouldn't be talking like that."

"No," said Daisy. She shook her head seriously. "No, you can be honest with me, Owen. I accept you for who you are. And I stand by you for what you did." She leaned forward in her chair and planted her lips against his, cupping his cheek in her palm. After a few seconds of noisy kissing, she pulled back, only so that he could breathe. She left her forehead pressed into his. The vampire whispered, "Someone like her didn't deserve to live."

His lips twitched into a grin again, but then they went flat. "Is it okay for you to be doing this, Doctor Jaggat?"

"Why?" she asked, laughing. "Do you mind it?"

Owen's expression returned to being a smirk. "No," he said, crashing his lips into hers again, giving her a hungrier kiss this time. It didn't matter to Daisy – it wasn't as if she'd show up on any cameras they may or may not have in place anyway.

"Oh, and," she started, short of breath, positioning his mouth away from her face. He began to kiss her neck and cheek. "Call me Daisy."

"Daisy?" he asked. He slowed down with his kisses. "I thought your name was Lucy."

"Well, now that we're being honest with each other, Owen," said Daisy. She raised her head, her eyes black as pitch and her fangs exposed. "I've got a secret for you as well."

That's where, for Owen, everything went black.

* * *

**AN: It's getting kind of racy here, huh? Sorry if that was a bit much, but…uh, yeah. There isn't really anything to say. I'll make sure to tone it down a bit in the future, if that's the general consensus. Just out of curiosity: I know it's only been two short chapters, but I was wondering, what do you readers enjoy more – the scary/disturbing scenes between Daisy and Owen or the comical and sweet scenes between our favorite supernatural tri-…quartet, I mean. Haha. Thank you so much for your reviews! And, of course, thank you for reading :) The next update might take a bit longer as classes start up again for me tomorrow, so my workload will surely increase and my downtime will, consequently, decrease. Ah well, hope this will tide you over!**


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